There is no joy for the poet
Equal to being muse herself
To find she has inspired life
Inside a heart once full of prose
Which now reads, speaks,
Yea, even writes,
Verses for her alone
When the highway man
Lays down his rapier
And picks instead a quill
When the mountain rouge
Dismounts his able steed
And wades into the sea
When the man who reads
But never writes
Sings poetry of his own
My heart, already yours,
My darling highway rouge,
Beats a wee bit faster
Now your lips speak
With the poetry of your soul
This, my love,
Is the the greatest gift -
My melethron's sweet heart
Author notes
"Melethron" is Sindarin (one of Tolkien's Elfish languages) for lover.
'O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away'...Yeats
In a list
Your opinion is requested
Comments
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True Fiction!
I been reading the poems for this contest this morning and I found that the essence of your crafted thoughts moved me to stop and comment. I liked the journey of your words and enjoyed what you shared. Good Luck in the contest and keep in touch with that muse of yours for future poetry as well. Nice work! joy
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To love Tolikien is to love a fantasy in love and life, you have penned a worthy piece to the quote in a different and clever way, I enjoyed the read. Love,C
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